


Letting Go

by RussianWitch



Series: Kinktober2018 [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: AO3 FB Challenge, Anonymous Sex, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 03:03:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16151192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: Kinktober 2018 entry day 1





	Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> Not betaed

The club is full of masked people, carnival at it's best allowing everyone to live their fantasies.

The anonymity is liberating, Q's little indulgence, once a year he lets himself to forget he doesn't have the luxury of dating and that he lives for his job. Hiding behind a mask, he can indulge for one night then put himself away again for the rest the year. Behind the mask, he doesn't have to pretend not to look at the men around him, doesn't have to still his hands but can reach out to touch, doesn't have to lock his knees but can slide to the floor instead open the willing partner's pants and swallow him down.

Damp with sweat and pre-come, the cock will fill his mouth and slide down his throat cutting off his air and bringing tears to his eyes.

Q ignores his arousal in favor of sucking his fill, wrapping his tongue around different shapes and sizes so he can not think about it for another year. For once, his mind goes blank, even the ever-present nagging worry that haunts him ever in the off hours is drowned out by the physicality he's drowning himself in.

The man he's sucking reaches out runs his hand through Q's hair; the different sensation has Q looking up and freezing.

Mask or not, Q's seen the silhouette towering over him often enough on his screens to recognize it even sex drunk in the half-dark.

He jerks back, coughing and wiping his face as he deliberately doesn't look up. He rises to his feet ignoring disappointed murmurs audible above the music and marches himself towards the exit. He feels numb, cold and hot at the same time, the club too hot and crowded—not that fighting his way outside helps.

Two streets from the club, Q leans against the wall in the shadow of an ally fighting for air, the tension he'd thought to have lost crashing down on him like a mountain.

"Interesting hobby, quartermaster," Bond says coming to lean against the wall next to him.

"Fuck off!" Q snarls, humiliated by a part of him being pleased that Bond followed.

"I was attempting to—" Bond points out, turning to pin Q to the grimy wall, "before you did a runner."

"Did you follow me?" Q demands, Bond doesn't seem the type to blackmail, but with an agent, one can never be sure.

"Would I do that?" Bond extracts a handkerchief from somewhere and dabs the corner of Q's mouth.

"I'll resign—" Q sighs, surprised when Bond pulls away with a frown.

"I'd rather hoped you'd be open to me returning the favor." He cups Q's cheek in an unnervingly tender way. "Once you finish the job that is."


End file.
